


In the City of Bells

by TheDizBizz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Gen, MAYBE friends to lovers, Mystery, Slow Burn, Some Spanish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9318932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDizBizz/pseuds/TheDizBizz
Summary: After the fumblings of LumériCo, the Vishkar corporation sends their covert agent and top engineer Satya "Symmetra" Viswani to help secure a foothold in the Mexican city of Dorado for future development. She discovers the famous musical freedom fighter Lúcio who is making an appearance in the city, hoping to rally the citizens against the oppression of Vishkar. He is an obstacle she cannot tolerate for the sake of the people's prosperity.Unbeknownst to both, they are being hunted by forces other than each other, and they may need to ignore rivalries to escape the City of Bells alive.





	1. Symmetra, Reporting

“Korpal? Sanjay, do you hear me?”

It was odd whenever Vishkar went silent. Satya adjusted her earpiece as if that would disrupt some obstruction in the signal.

“Sanjay, I am approaching the objective. I am awaiting further instruction.”

Still nothing. Satya stood rigid behind the decrepit wall, studying the torn and faded posters strewn about its face. The old heroes of Overwatch stared back at her: Winston, Tracer, Mercy, Jack Morrison. Her eye wandered to the angelic doctor, framed with her trailing golden wings. It’s hard not to stare – she’s perfect, symmetrical in every way.

Besides the Overwatch poster, there are several more fliers printed in green, with centered logos of frog faces wearing headphones. She might have found the posters amusing, if not for the traitorous street ruffian behind them. At least someone had already spray painted over them in bright red, clearly as a warning.

Satya examined the rest of the street corner. Dorado was not much different than Rio de Janeiro. The underdeveloped city invited slums, gangs, violent freedom fighters. The people here would be much safer in Vishkar’s hands after LumériCo botched their attempt at taming the city, not accounting for the chaotic deeds of Los Muertos and the Junkers. Whatever her mission was here, it would be to promote order and safety for the suffering people, and that would be enough.

Despite the filth and litter scattered along the street that rendered her body tense, she could find some solace in the bells ringing above the rooftops. It was the City of Bells, after all, and she had not traveled more than a few lone streets without seeing at least one hanging from the towering buildings along ocean cliffside.

“Symmetra,” Sanjay said, finally transmitting through her earpiece, “describe your location.”

“I am in an alleyway, near the plaza,” Satya replied, allowing her eyes to travel to the plaza, so eerily similar to Rio’s favela. Cords of lights were strung up to convene at the center statue, illuminating rustic yellow and red paint chipping off the store fronts. The lights were admittedly inviting, but Satya refused them, careful not to draw too much attention to herself in her ‘Symmetra’ garb.

 “Good. There is a gathering of rebels underground. We need you to infiltrate this meeting and collect as much information on them and their plans as possible. You may need to terminate some if necessary.”

“You know I don’t-“

“Yes, Satya, I know you don’t kill if you don’t have to. But Vishkar needs to solidify its claim in Dorado, and as long as there are rebels rallying against the very foundation of that claim, we will not be able to help the growth of the city. Don’t be Satya, be Symmetra.”

Satya paused, staring once again at the printed band of Overwatch heroes. She was an architect, agreed to be deployed on covert missions for the betterment of humanity. She never agreed to be a soldier, but this role must be what humanity demanded of her contract now. “Understood,” she said, perhaps not as resolutely as normal.

Satya placed a teleporter down in the alleyway, away from the shopping citizens in the plaza. It would serve as a quick getaway if the situation turned against her, granted if she were able to blend seamlessly into the crowd. This variable was unsettling.

“I am ready for instruction,” Satya confirmed.

“Good. Head down the alleyway, and you’ll find a tunnel that leads further down under the street.”

“I am on my way.”

Night had already crept in, and the light from the plaza began to fade at Satya continued into the bowels of Dorado’s underground. She shivered, whisking her mechanical hand to conjure a hard light construct – a makeshift torch – as she navigated the maze of connected networks.

“I feel… there’s something down here,” Satya reported. Faint rhythmic echoes reverberated against tunnel walls, vibrations moved through her boots.

“You’re getting closer,” Sanjay said, with no explanation for the gradually increasing volume of each booming wave. It at least aided her navigation, leaving an audio bread crumb trail to follow. Every few meters she placed a turret or two along the ceiling as a precaution.

She imagined this rebel base; a disorderly haven for muscular bands of thugs, all tattooed, leather-clad, heavily armed, and possibly deadly members of Los Muertos amped up on substances and adrenaline-inducing music. This must be what these vibrations were – music. Yes, she started to recognize a melody among the noise as a new light source emerged from the end of the tunnel. Her heart started to pound with the beat.

“I am at the objective.” Satya placed a connecting teleporter down behind a pillar standing at the lip of the tunnel, now flooded with light. The music was so loud now that she forced the earpiece further into her ear, only barely understanding the rest of Sanjay’s instructions.

“Excellent work. Tell me what you see.”

Satya exhaled the remaining traces of trepidation as she peeked around the pillar. It was a crowd of rebels alright. They screamed and sang and jumped up and down in a vague form of dancing. But they were not thugs; at least, not Satya’s vision of thugs anyway. They were families. They were mothers and fathers and elderly and children. They smiled and swirled and sparkled in a shower of green flashing stage light.

“I…”

“Satya? What do you see?”

The music faded slightly, just enough for the figure on stage to speak.

“Dorado! How is everybody doing out here tonight?!” The speaker said, expertly twirling light disks underneath his fingertips. “This one’s for you! Don’t ever let anyone – not LumériCo, not Vishkar – take the music away from your home!”

The music began to rise again, and the cheers from the audience rose with it.

“It is the thief, Lúcio,” she reported, now shouting above the ruckus. “This must be a private concert he’s holding for the people.”

“Lúcio, huh?” Sanjay went quiet again.

“Sanjay? I suggest aborting the mission. It does not seem to be a rebel base – no files, no security to bypass.”

“No. You are to finish the mission. Terminate the target.”

“What? The target? You mean the _thief_?” Satya nearly scoffed at the suggestion. “There are too many witnesses. Such a blatant assassination would not go unnoticed.”

“Do not question, Symmetra.” Sanjay’s voice turned harsh. “If anyone were to go unnoticed, it would be you. Remember, you agreed to the terms of this mission: terminate the rebel if you must.”

“Sanjay, even if I were to… _terminate_ the target,” Satya said with unease, “my weapon is not discrete. I need to wait after the crowd has cleared to avoid the attention.”

“Very well, do what you must. Report back when you’ve completed your mission.”

The pillar suddenly felt narrower, as if the walls of the tunnels were closing in around her. The smile of a little girl blinded her from the middle of the jubilant crowd.

It was true; she had never forgiven the thief for what he denied Vishkar at Rio de Janeiro. Rage welled within her as she spotted his tech – rightfully Vishkar sonic tech – equipped to his clunky lower body armor. She would have done anything to bring him to justice, to see him imprisoned and punished for his crimes. Still, the rage was not justification enough for his murder by her hands, and the prospect of vigilantism was not conducive to her vision of peace and order. Not even the Los Muertos sentenced LumériCo's Guillermo Portero to death.

But perhaps this is what humanity demands of her contract now.

Assassination, if she wanted to call it that, would not be easy. The assassination of Tekhartha Mondatta was infamous now: the Omnic monk was taken out by a Talon sniper positioned on the rooftops of London, who managed to resist heavy security even including the likes of Tracer. Satya was not a sniper, and Lúcio rivaled, if not surpassed, the global adoration of Mondatta. Completing this mission required more of her than skill – it would require intensive planning, too much in the little amount of time she was given. But she would have to make do.

She decided backstage would be the best place for this. It would provide close quarters, away from the view of the crowd, where he would be off his guard and in the range of her turrets. It would not be a clean, merciful death as Mondatta was given. Turret damage takes time, and she was not interested in watching a man's slow death. Perhaps if she were to stack all of her turrets along the same exit point and add the damage of her photon projector, it would be over within the second. He would be dead before he could even assess what was happening. Death is punishment enough without needless suffering.

Yes, this plan would do, as long as she did not linger on the disturbing details too long. Death is an illusion. This is what she must remind herself if she were to properly carry out the mission.

But perhaps she did not want to carry out the mission.

Satya took a step from behind the pillar towards the stage. A thunderous explosion staggered her to the floor.

The walls of the underground venue began to collapse. Bricks and tiles fell over the heads of the crowd and a chorus of screams filled Satya’s ears. Large, muscular men rushed out from the gaping holes made in the ceiling and walls, adding to the commotion with rallying cries. Their faces and arms were lit up in intricate skeletal tattoos that glowed neon in the dark. These were Los Muertos.

The men rushed the stage toward the target as Satya was preoccupied scanning the crowd for innocents. The little girl with a once blinding smile was now struggling from under the rubble.

“Sanjay? Sanjay do you read? The mission was compromised! It is now a rescue mission!”

“What? Satya, what do you mean it-“

The earpiece cut out with loud static, and for an instant, all Satya could see was a bright burst of purple light. A voice rose from the crowd, exhilarated.

"¡Apagando las luces!" 


	2. Heroes and Thieves

It took Satya a moment after the blinding flash of light to regain her bearings. She was leaning against the pillar, clutching onto its misshapen bricks for stability after the trembling explosions had sent her careening off balance. People – men, women, children, Los Muertos – were running, stumbling, making sense of the situation like frantic ants. The girl under the rubble was still struggling, crying something Satya could not hear. The deafening static in her communications earpiece had isolated her from the sounds of the chaos.

She ripped off her headpiece to hear the girl’s cries. “¡Ayuda! ¡Mi pierna está quebrada!”

“Ah, amiga,” a new voice entered her right ear. Still dizzy from the blurring crowd, Satya whisked around to the voice, finding a young woman staring down at her with curious eyes.

The woman continued, cool and collected somehow among the commotion. “I would say I’ve been looking everywhere for you, but let’s be honest, your turrets led me straight here. And I cannot tell you how laughable Vishkar’s communications transmission security is. You should really tell Sanjay to take a look at that.”

The woman’s aesthetic only confused Satya further. The asymmetry of it all: a half-shaved head that gave way to a side of cascading ombre hair, the wide askew collar that framed her head and continued down into a flaring coat hem, the leggings that transformed from lavender to cyan, and the patterns and lines that crossed and tangled. It was too much to take in.

“H… H-How…”

“Aww, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” The woman kneeled to Satya’s level. “Understandable. We made quite the entrance, didn’t we?”

“Y-you’re with Los Muertos?” Satya managed to ask.

“I used to be with Los Muertos. I’ve moved on to bigger and better things, but they’re always useful for some muscle when we find ourselves with similar interests.”

“And your interest here is?” Satya’s composure recovered now that she was given a target to focus her attention on. Still, she glanced past the woman, monitoring the little girl with her peripherals.

“Why, my interest here is you Satya, or should I call you Symmetra? And Los Muertos’ interest is _him_ ,” the woman said pointedly, jabbing a thumb to motion towards the direction of the stage. The thief was skating nimbly along the walls with his Vishkar-enabled hard light blades, dodging the grabbing and shooting hands of Los Muertos. Curses were thrown at him as often as bullets. He was like a baited bobble, teasing the mouths of ravenous sharks.

Satya wondered how she would have ever managed to pull off his assassination anyway.

“What a coincidence you two were in the same place at the same time, and in my hometown even,” the woman said, turning back to her. “Though, I’m inclined not to call it a coincidence at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she replied, wagging her finger. Satya noticed the long nails like claws, connected to wires running down her hand. “You can’t expect me to give all the juicy details away that easy. I’m not here to explain this all to you. I’m here to make you deal.”

“A deal? I do not even know who you are.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “As it should be. Listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, and for both our sakes, I prefer to do this the easy way.”

She formed her claws into a square, and then expanded the frame outwards to reveal a picture within a floating screen. It was the explosion of the Calado building in Rio’s favela.

The picture prompted Satya to glance back at the girl. She was no longer screaming but instead sitting in tearful silence with her legs trapped under the piles of crumbled brick and mortar. The thief was still riding along the walls ascending towards the ceiling, pushing away the attackers with bursts of audio waves from the stolen sonic amplifier. The venue was nearly cleared of the initial audience. By her count, it was now only the woman, the thief, an intimidating band of Los Muertos, the injured girl, and herself in the gaping tunnel. It would be so easy to make an escape. The teleporter she had laid down was immediately behind her crutch of a pillar, just outside of the mystery woman’s sight. In two steps she could be done with it. But the little girl remained, and so would she.

“Focus, amiga,” the woman took her chin into her claws and pulled her face towards the picture. Satya tensed at the physical contact, eagerly retreating from her grip. “The people you work for are powerful, you must know this.”

“We establish order.”

“Order, clearly. What about the chaos, destruction, exploitation, and misery the Vishkar Corporation leaves behind in its wake?”

Before Satya could protest, the woman swiped her hand across the air, revealing several more floating screens. More incarceration. More sabotage. More death. Most reports she had never seen until now. A few screens featured a passing glimpse of Vishkar’s weapon, Symmetra herself.

“W-we establish order. What Vishkar does is for the greater good. We are making the world a better place.”

“Oh, pobrecita,” the woman said pitifully, “you really have no idea how the world works, do you?”

 She collapsed the screens back into the singular picture of the burning favela. “So here’s the deal. The people I’m with now for are interested in recruiting an agent to disrupt Vishkar from the inside. We want their tech, their database, everything. Sure, I could just hack my way in, but to have a physical agent walk in and take Vishkar down right from under their nose? That would be priceless! Your skillset would surely be useful.”

Satya blinked, comprehending the proposal. “Vishkar gave me a life free of chaos and disorder. To betray them would be foolishness.”

“I figured you wouldn’t take this so well. But trust me amiga, coming with me really is the better deal for you. The people I’m with are not as nice as I am. If you resist they will find you. We’ve got ears and eyes everywhere in this city, in every city. I’ve seen what they’ve done to people who needed a little… _convincing_ , and it’s not a pretty sight.”

The screen rotated to show a new image, one of a slender, feminine figure on a rooftop flooded with silver moonlight. The woman would have been beautiful, if not for the imposing silhouette of a sniper rifle she clutched in her hands, and the ghastly shade of purple her skin had assumed.

It was the Talon sniper on King’s Row.

“You work for Talon, then?”

“’Work for’ is such a strong term. I prefer to call it what it is: an alliance. But you must now have an idea of what the hard way will be for you. So what do you say? Clock’s ticking, amiga.”

 Escape would be so easy. Two steps and she could be done with it. “My answer is no.”

“You’re testing me, you know that? I don’t have all day. Let me show you what I mean by the ‘hard way.’”

The woman raised her claws again and started to tap the tips of her nails in the air, creating blinking purple shapes of holographic buttons. In an instant, Satya felt her mechanical arm spasm, and the blue light emitting from her palm flickered to the same purple of the woman’s claws.

Satya froze, staring wide-eyed as her arm moved without her consent, her input, her control. It convulsed to create unnatural shapes in hard light. They were oblong, obtuse, obscene, conceived in no realm of rhyme, reason, or order.  The elbow bent counter to its socket, and Satya writhed with the discomfort. “Stop! Stop!” She demanded with tears welling in the corners of her eyes, but the woman did not heed.

“You know how to stop this,” the woman replied simply. Panic rushed through Satya’s chest.

From the ceiling of the tunnel, the thief pushed off from his high vantage point into the mob of Los Muertos, shouting as his sonic amplifier pulsated. “Let’s break it down!”

This was her chance. Even with his modifications, Satya was familiar enough with the technology to know what the equipment would do once it touched the ground. She stood up, for the moment ignoring her corrupted arm and bracing herself for the impact.

He fell into the middle of the band of Los Muertos. The sound barrier had activated. Like bowling pins, the closest thugs were launched from their feet and onto their backs. More and more of the tattooed men were knocked to the ground with fierce intensity as the radius of the rippling pulse grew outwards. The waves finally approached Satya’s feet, and she dug her fingers into the nooks of the pillar, steadying herself against it as the vibrations shook her body from its core. The mystery woman was not so lucky. The sound barrier bucked her from the ground, sending her crashing abruptly into the stone pillar.

Satya regained control of her arm as it returned to its intended blue glow. With her photon projector, she charged a ball of energy at the apex of the weapon’s three prongs, aiming it at the woman still recovering from the fall. Upon release, the ball traveled through the woman like a ghost. Satya watched the energy drain from her face as the projectile passed, eventually succumbing to unconsciousness.

Satya stood over her, brushing off the dusty debris from her shoulder. “Know your place.”

At the turn of a heel, Satya returned her attention to the girl, who sat in shock after the sound barrier had hit. She rushed to the girl’s side, holding up the back of her head. The girl’s long dark pigtail braids brushed against her arm. “I am here to help. Are you hurt?”

It took a few blinks of the girl’s brown eyes to process what Satya had asked her. “¡Sí! Please help me out of here! I-I think my leg is broken.”

Satya gazed down at the rubble that had encased the girl’s lower half. It would not be easy to move the mountain of loose bricks, at least not by hand. Luckily she knew of a way around that. The problem would be moving the girl once the rubble had been removed.

“Oh, good! You saw her too! I would have gotten to her sooner if I could.” Yet again another voice had snuck up behind her, bristling the hairs on her arm and the back of her neck. She knew who this voice belonged to. The thief crouched beside them, the waft of his mint cologne overwhelming her senses. “Alright, tell me what you need me to do to help.”

“I do not need _your_ help,” she scoffed, standing up again. “This situation is under my control.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to-“

Satya cut him off, firing up her photon projector again. This time she activated the beam, an ethereal range of light that licked any connecting surfaces in search of an energy source to drain. She aimed the edge of the beam’s range at the rubble and captured the mass of loose bricks in the beam’s powerful hold. With little effort, she lifted the heavy load of debris into the air, and the little girl sighed with relief as she readjusted her weight free from the burden.

With a new awareness of her body, the girl screamed. “Ah! My leg is definitely broken!”

The thief bounced nervously to his feet. “Okay, that was impressive, but I’m sure I could help carry her out.”

“No. Do not concern yourself with this. I have her.”

Satya reached out for the girl with her free mechanical arm. Before she could touch her, her fingers began to buzz and twitch with the flickering of the arm’s light, occasionally flashing purple before returning to blue. She twirled her head to face the pillar where she had left the woman, still lying unconscious on the floor.

“This is not good.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t look too good to me either,” the thief commented. “I insist, let me take her.”

Satya studied the thief. She had only called him by his true name to identify him properly to Sanjay, otherwise, she would not dignify him with a name other than what he truly was, “thief.” This was the closest she had even been in his presence; her general knowledge of his nature and appearance was entirely composed of Vishkar reports and media coverage – both of his uprising in Rio de Janeiro and his highly sought after and perpetually sold-out concerts across the world. She had always imagined cold, dark eyes that thirsted for the sight of revolution and anarchy, buried under an immovable furrowed brow. In life, his likeness did not resemble her concocted visage. His eyes were wide, shining in the light of her beam, sheltered under brows that rose with genuine concern.

“Very well. Take her.”

“Thank you.”

He gently wrapped his arms around the girl’s shoulders and legs, careful to lift her up without jostling the broken bone. Satya slowly placed the rubble back onto the evacuated ground.

“Now we just gotta find a way out of here.”

Satya raised her hand in dismissal. “That is not necessary. I have opened a path.”

“Okay, cool. Wanna show me where it is – “

A bullet suddenly passed through the air between them, grazing Satya’s metal hand. The groans of stirring men rose from the epicenter where the thief had deployed his sound barrier. Some of the more durable thugs had already regained their balance and had taken their aim.

“The ruffians are coming to! We must move, quickly!”

“I’ve got you covered!” Struggling to free his hands and keep the girl in his arms, he swiped two fingers across the sonic amplifier he detached from his hip, creating a crossfade into a new song with a rapid tempo. Somehow this compelled Satya’s legs to move faster, encouraged by the pace of each beat.

“The teleporter is behind the pillar, over there!” Satya pointed while struggling to keep up with the speed of his blades.

“A teleporter? Wait, why do you have a teleporter here?”

“That is not important. Keep moving-“

Pain. Incredible pain. Her head whiplashed backward as the inertia of her body continued forwards, and the brunt of the force screamed through her neck.

“Where do you think you’re going, Bonita?” A man’s voice started, his plump hand gripping the long strands of her midnight hair, yanking her back with each vigorous tug. Tears involuntarily welled in her eyes once more.

“Help! Please!” She cried.

“Hold on, I got you!” The thief shifted his blades to arc around towards her. Once he took a firm hold of her arm, he aimed the sonic amplifier at the hair-fisted assailant and with a quick press of the trigger sent the man flying back into his fellow thugs. “Push off.”

There was no time for gratitude. The thief reassured a vice-like grip on her arm before he forcefully trailed her behind him, leading her along a zig-zagging path to the teleporter in order to avoid the hail of bullets. He swiftly pulled her behind the cover of the pillar with him, and they both stared into the blissful humming oval of the teleporter that greeted them.

“Here is the teleporter!” Satya shouted over the gunfire. “Proceed!”

“Woah, woah, wait! What about her?” The thief pointed to the unconscious woman on the ground, her limbs limp and askew.

“She is with them, Los Muertos! Leave her!”

Satya was not about to have this conversation while Los Muertos were taking potshots at them from behind an architecturally unsound pillar. She placed her palms firmly against the thief’s back and hurriedly pushed him and the girl in his arms into the warping teleporter. With a final glance at the mystery woman, she stepped in after them.


	3. Las Nieblas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like receiving comments! Don't be afraid to leave feedback for me. My schedule for updating this fic is not going to be regular - I have a lot of schoolwork, so chapters will only be churned out when I have the time and motivation to do so. Comments and feedback help feed my motivation!

Skates and heels scrambled on the cobbled streets of Dorado, cloaked in a faint layer of fog. No sooner had they traveled through the teleporter before Satya began to dismantle it, folding the structure in on itself and dissolving it in a flash of hard light that no Los Muertos could follow through. The three were soon consumed by the darkness of the alleyway.

“Wait a minute, “ the thief started, watching as she maneuvered her hands with the glowing and fading architecture. “I know this tech-“

“That was amazing!” the girl in his arms interrupted. “Are you one of those heroes?”

“Are you referring to me?” Satya asked. Despite being carried in the arms of an international celebrity, the girl had not taken her wide eyes from her. “What heroes do you mean?”

“Los Protectores. Overwatch.”

Satya stifled the instinct to laugh at the mere idea. “No, I am not.”

“Who are you?”

Who was she? At the moment, recovering from a failed mission under Viskhar’s orders, her moniker must be Symmetra. However, it was not a moniker appropriate to disclose to a civilian and Viskhar’s greatest enemy.  No, she may be safer with her true name.

“Satya,” she said simply. The girl’s intense gaze continued to linger, as if waiting for an elaborated response. Satya grew uncomfortable under the pairs of staring eyes. She could feel the thief studying her, able for the first time to truly soak in her appearance. Surely her heritage, her costume, and her technology, was not new to him.

“I’m Lúcio,” the thief spoke to save her from the silence. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Alejandra,” the girl said, finally recognizing the arms she was carried in. “I know you! I wanted to be at your concert tonight, so I snuck out of the bakery and... oh, mama is going to kill me when she sees me like this!” Alejandra winced at the pain that had now erupted in her leg as the daze adrenaline had gifted her began to fade.

“Hey, no worries,” the thief said, voice soft. “We’ll take you home and explain this all to your mother. I’m sure she’ll believe you if I’m there. Where do you live?”

“I live above the bakery, just across the market.” Alejandra pointed to the plaza, the only source of light that peeked into the alleyway. “Through here.”

The thief took a step before Satya stilled him with a command. “Stop. We cannot take this path.”

“Why not?”

“Los Muertos are looking for us,” Satya said, “and you and I are not fit to blend into a crowd. We should use the alleyways. We will be better hidden.”

“Who are Los Muertos?” The thief asked, ignoring her suggestion. “Are they the guys that attacked the concert? Do you know what happened back there? That whole situation was crazy!”

Satya grimaced. Perhaps she had disclosed too much. She was not prepared to answer his barrage of questions. “Los Muertos is an organization of lawless Mexican freedom fighters. The woman we left behind was working with them and had told me they wanted something to do with you, but did not tell me why. That is all I know.”

“Los Muertos aren’t freedom fighters. They’re bullies,” Alejandra scowled. “They nearly got me killed once before. They say they care about Mexico, but they only care about themselves.”

Freedom fighters, bullies, thieves. To Satya they were one in the same.

The thief glared hard at the wall in thought, then to Satya. “You said they were looking for _us_. What do they want with _you_?”

“I…” Satya bit her tongue, searching for the correct sequence of words. She could not let the thief know of the Vishkar employment that was so fundamental to the reason the mystery woman was searching for her; with no way of communicating with Sanjay now that her headset was left somewhere in Dorado’s underground, there would be no way of guaranteeing her safety should the thief find out about the employment. “She would not tell me the reason for this, only that they are looking for us both.”

“Alright fine, I guess this is what we’re dealing with.” The thief shook his head, as if trying to shake the happenings of the night from his memory. “You’ll need to tell me where to go, Alejandra.”

“Take a right down this way,” she pointed to a connecting alleyway, and they started their trek in the shadows.

Satya was in no mood for conversation, and in no mood for silence. That the thief could satisfy her mood by striking conversation with the girl, and not herself, admittedly gifted her relief. The bells that continued to echo into the night soothed her nerves.

“So, Alejandra,” he started, “sounds like you’re a fan of Overwatch.”

“They’re heroes,” she said, suddenly reverent. “Mama tells me stories about them all the time. One of them saved my life from Los Muertos.”

“Really? Which one?”

“Soldado: 76.”

“What, that guy that’s going around attacking random places? He’s not from Overwatch, is he?”

“ _I_ think he is.”

“Well, you know, I’ve met some _real_ Overwatch members,” the thief flashed the shine of his teeth. “One of the perks of fame, I guess. I’ve met Tracer, Winston, Mercy, Reinhardt, even D.Va. Now I know D.Va isn’t from Overwatch, but she’s a hero to her country. I know all about that feeling you get when you meet your heroes. I even got D.Va’s autograph.”

“You’re a hero too,” Alejandra said. “You saved your city from Vishkar. I just wanted to help you do the same thing for my home, for Dorado.”

Satya grinded her teeth to the rhythm of stone rolling under her heels. What was there to be saved from? Order? Peace?

“Well thanks, I appreciate it. Anyone can be a hero if they do the right thing.” He turned to face the straggler following behind. “What about you, Satya? Any heroes in your life you look up to?”

She did not want to participate in the conversation. Heroes inspire freedom fighters, freedom fighters inspire chaos. Idolatry of people over ideas would not progress the future of humanity. Only discipline, only the work of organized individuals, only Vishkar, would do that.

“I do not believe in heroes,” she replied instead. Simple. Unremarkable. Undetectable.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure you’ve got someone you look up to a little.”

Sanjay, possibly, filled this role. He was not her hero, he was her colleague. Yet, he commanded the respect of his peers and the reverence of those under his command. Satya found admiration in his efficiency and charisma. If she could give a face to Vishkar, it would be his.

“I have an acquaintance I respect. Nothing more.”

“Well, it’s something at least.”

“I think you’re both heroes. Do you know each other?” Alejandra asked as she pointed a new direction down a new dark alleyway, nearly identical to the last.

Neither answered her question immediately. They looked to each other, awaiting a response from the other. She had expected her own silence – of course she knew _of_ him, how could she not, but it was not her place to reveal just how much she knew about him. It was his silence that troubled her. It was in his silence that he perhaps saw a hint of fear in her eyes.

“Yes,” he finally answered. Satya felt her cheeks and ears rush with heated blood. Had he known who she was?

“Satya is the light technician for my concerts,” the thief lied. “She’s responsible for all the awesome lighting effects that you saw happening on stage. She’s a new hire though, so we’re still getting to know each other.”

Brilliant.

“Yes, of course. That was why I was there.” Satya nodded to reassure the girl and reinforce the lie. She looked to the thief again. He turned his head away from Alejandra and towards her, mouthing to her a word she interpreted as “later.” The girl seemed satisfied with the answer. It was a clever one. It accounted for her hard light equipment, her unique wardrobe, her appearance in an underground concert in the heart of Dorado. It was a lie too perfect. The beating of blood through her extremities did not cease as she thought of the possibilities “later” entailed. She may well be a hostage.

“The bakery is around the corner,” Alejandra said, pointing to the end of the final alleyway. Satya and the thief crouched by the edge of the wall, inspecting the illuminated thoroughfare that was their final obstacle to the building.

“Wait,” Alejandra ordered, squinting into the crowd. “Those guys over there by the market, they’re Los Muertos. I recognize them. Wait until they’re gone.”

The men were just as large and intimidating as the thugs that attacked the concert. Leather-clad, spiked, tattooed, just as Satya imagined when she first prepared for this mission. It seemed as if they were asking around for something – something Satya could very well assume. They never received an acceptable answer, and they roughened up some of the civilians and especially the omnic ones before hopping on their car and taking off down the street.

“Okay, it should be clear,” Alejandra said. Satya and the thief rushed through the crowd towards the bakery, receiving cold stares from the civilians that no doubt recognized them from the description Los Muertos had given them just moments ago.

Making their way up the steps, Satya glanced up at the sign above the door. Panadería Las Nieblas. Of her Vishkar-mandated courses in Spanish, she recognized “Panadería” as "bakery", but the remaining translation eluded her.

“I require a translation,” Satya demanded of the thief.

“You know I’m Brazilian, right? We speak Portuguese, not Spanish.”

“They are sister languages, are they not? Surely you can still read this.”

The thief sighed, before replying “The Mist Bakery.”

Satya knocked on the door to The Mist Bakery, and no sooner did her knuckle leave the wood that it opened to a full female face wrought with wrinkles and worry. The face was framed with pulled-back hair, rich brunette with signs of gray. The woman eagerly took her daughter from the thief’s arms.

“Mija! I was so scared, it was so late and I didn’t know where you had gone! What happened to you? Who are these people with you?”

“Careful, mama! My leg is broken.”

“Oh, mija! How did you break it?”

“I’ll tell you about it inside. I need to let my friends in, too.”

The woman inspected the two strangers that awaited the sanctuary of her bakery. Her eyes were hard and narrow while scanning over Satya – no doubt she was an obvious foreigner, Indian, and suspicious during a time when an Indian corporation was staking claims in the city. But the woman’s eyes were not so as they jumped to the thief. They were wide, just a bright and brown and beautiful as her daughters. “Wait, you’re – “

Alejandra nodded. “Si, mama, it’s Lúcio.”

“Lúcio!” The woman did not know what emotion to feel. “What are you doing here?”

“Los Muertos are looking for me and my friend. We need a place to lay low for the night. I don’t mean to put you or your daughter in any danger, but we would be grateful if you could help us.”

With the title of Lucio’s friend, Satya no longer received the cold, narrowed stare of the woman, but instead the same large, warm one she had reserved for the thief. Satya was not sure whether she felt comforted by her reaction or insulted to be given such a title.

“Of course, come in.”

The bakery was still warm from the heat of the ovens, and the bright yellow and rust paint seemed to capture the light of day after the sun had already set. Alejandra’s mother set her down gently in a wood chair, inspecting the bruised and twisted leg. “It doesn’t look good, mija. I can’t take you to a doctor this late at night. I’ll have to make a splint for you out of something.”

“I can help,” Satya said, kneeling down with the woman to inspect the leg with her – not for a medical assessment, but for a measurement. With a few whisks of her hand, a hard light construct formed around Alejandra’s leg in blue light, and with another whisk of her hand, it solidified into an ivory white cast.

“Who are you?” The woman asked, her eyes slowly returning to their narrowed state.

“This is Satya.” The thief placed his hand on Satya’s shoulder as he spoke. Her muscles contracted at the touch, and he took the cue to let go. “She’s the light technician for my concerts. She does some incredible set designs with her tech. You see she can make just about anything.”

“Oh, I see,” the woman said, eyelids again retreating from suspicious squinting. “Gracias, Satya. Now what is all this about?”

“It’s my fault,” Alejandra started, “I snuck out to see Lúcio’s concert.”

“I didn’t know about any Lúcio concert here.”

“No,” the thief chuckled slightly, perhaps in guilt, “it wasn’t part of my world tour. After I learned Vishkar was planning to develop here, this was just something special I was holding for anyone local in Dorado that heard about it. I didn’t want Vishkar to come in and break up the party if they found out. Turned out Los Muertos did that anyway.”

“That is what broke her leg,” Satya continued. “Los Muertos disrupted the concert with explosives. The rubble the explosives had caused landed on her leg. I removed the rubble and then the thie-”

She caught herself.

“…and then Lúcio helped carry her out.” The name dragged like sandpaper across her tongue.

 “Why didn’t you tell me, Alejandra? I would have gone with you.”

“Lo siento, mama. I wanted to go by myself. I should have asked you first.” Alejandra said, before raising her eyes to Satya and the thief. “But they saved me. They’re heroes, just like Soldado: 76.”

The woman stood up to face them. “Gracias, both of you, for helping my daughter. I don’t know how to repay you other than offering you my home for the night. If Los Muertos are looking for you, you should leave Dorado as soon as possible in the morning. I want my family to be safe.”

“I understand,” the thief said. Satya nodded her head in agreement. She must play the part. She mustn’t let them know she will not be leaving Dorado at all – if able, she will be returning to Vishkar’s temporary site in the LumeriCo building, just a few blocks from the bakery. Perhaps with the new information about the mystery woman and her intentions, Sanjay would let her transfer out of the city for her own safety.

“I have a room upstairs with a sofa and a cot. You can decide what to take. Help yourself to anything in the bakery if you’re hungry.” The woman picked her daughter up again, carrying her up the stairs herself. “And you, Alejandra, need to rest.”

Satya and the thief followed behind her, and were directed into the living room where Alejandra’s mother rested a blanket over the sofa and set up a cot on the other side of the coffee table. She lit candles on the coffee table for light, bid them both good night, and left with her daughter into their respective rooms.

Satya and the thief were alone. She sat on the sofa, claiming it as her resting place for the night without speaking a word. The thief did not protest. He silently unequipped his gear, stepping out of the clunky leg armor and skates and setting the stolen Vishkar tech to the side of the coffee table. He then carefully removed the speakers that clung to the ends of his dreads. It was a meticulous process. Satya removed her boots in the meantime. She would have to sleep in her Symmetra garments, which were not ideal for sleeping in, and were not washed or folded neatly. But there was not much room to complain.

It wasn’t until he lay down on the cot, back facing her, that her mind began to race. She had so many questions, but one dominated them all – why did he lie for her? She supposed he would have clarified this “later,” but now was “later,” and he still did not attempt to clarify.

Satya’s eyes lingered on the sonic amplifier. It was Vishkar’s, but it was also his. It was modified into oblivion, and surely it would not be anything Vishkar would claim as its own in its current state. Thief. He was a thief. He was a rebel. He was a target. She suddenly remembered the failed mission. Terminate the target, Sanjay said. By definition, as long as he was alive, the mission was not failed – only delayed.

This was her chance. She could almost hear Sanjay in her ear now commanding her do it, to take the shot. Her photon projector was just an arm's length away.This is for the future of Vishkar, and such an opportunity to be so close, for him to be so vulnerable, may never happen again.

But in the dark of night, with only the light of the candles flickering between them, it felt wrong. It was too intimate. Had she done it at the concert she could make her escape and call herself an assassin. If she did it now, it would be betrayal. They were not friends. They were not even close to friends. But they were both alive now because they had kept each other that way, willingly or not.

“Still trying to figure out what to do with me, Vishkar?”

Unlike the rush of heated blood she felt in the alleyways, her blood instead flushed from her skin, running cold and pale. He did not turn to address her. His back was still against her and the candle light, his head facing the dark opposing wall.

“I do not know what you mean.”

This response caused him to turn over. His face was hardened, just as she had imagined him in the Vishkar reports. She dared to miss his softened features.

“Oh please, drop the act. I recognized your tech the moment we went through your teleporter. You’re either Vishkar, or stole from them. I’m willing to bet it’s not the latter.”

She could not find the words she should have found. Sanjay would have known what to say.

“Anyway, I lied for you because that little girl thinks you’re a hero. If you really are Vishkar, I wasn’t going to ruin her night by telling her that isn’t true.”

“I am Vishkar,” she admitted. There was little use denying it now. “And you are a thief.”

He laughed. It was not a sincere laugh, this much she could tell. It was a laugh intended to mock her, and her blood once cold began to boil.

“Yeah, okay, I stole from Vishkar. You guys stole from everyone else. Seemed only fair after what you did to my favela.”

“We helped your favela,” Satya said. “After the explosion we rebuilt. We provided better homes, better jobs, better lives.”

“Better slave labor too, right?” He stared into an empty spot in the air. “And I wonder who set off the explosion in the favela in the first place.” Once again, Satya could not find her words. The thief dismissed her and turned over again. “Whatever. It’s not like you were there.”

“I was there.” Satya said quietly. Her words now came to her in confidence, but her voice did not. “I was in the favela when it happened.”

He made the effort to face her again, eyebrow perked in slight interest. “When what happened? The explosion?”

“Yes,” Satya said. This was classified information. This was not something she was supposed to tell anyone not employed within the highest ranks at Vishkar, much less Vishkar’s public enemy number one. Perhaps it was the lull of the candles or the disorientating night, but she continued to speak.

“I was there to gather information on Calado. Men attacked me and I disabled them, but I let them live. Any other Vishkar agent might have killed them with the right orders, but I saved them. There was nothing anyway. There was nothing on Calado. There was no reason for me to stay and kill men over nothing. As soon as I got out of to the favela and reported to my superior, the Calado building went up in flames.”

She took her focus off of the flame licking the air to look back at the thief. He stared intensely, neither harsh nor gentle. Just intense. She returned to the candle.

“The men I left in the building perished. I might as well have killed them. But the people in the favela, I thought as long as I could save some of the civilians, I could still do some good. I rushed into the burning rubble. There was a little girl trapped in all of it. Her face was so perfect, so angelic. She had helped me earlier that day escape the chaos of your favela. Yet she suffered for it. I saved her life but I could not save her face, it had already been burned in the explosion.”

Satya did not dare take her eyes from the candle now. Her stomach churned imagining the faces the thief may be directing at her now. “I never knew if the explosion was Vishkar’s plan. It did not matter after Vishkar gained the contract in Rio. The past was behind us during the rehabilitation. I wanted to see that little girl in a beautiful, measured, secured home. She was for a while, until you ruined that life for her.”

She could hear the rustling of his blanket on his cot, and a deep exhale as he absorbed her story. Then he spoke.

“You’re a good person, Satya. At least you try to be. I could see that much in the way you cared about Alejandra. You just can’t see what you’re really doing. Vishkar is not helping the way you think they are. I know they’re the ones that burned the favela down. Think about it: they waited for you to get out before they did it.”

She did not need to be told to think about it. It was something she thought about regularly. But to be told that there was something she was missing, something she couldn’t see, had become a troubling theme of the night. The mystery woman’s comment reverberated in her foggy head _. “You really have no idea how the world works, do you?”_

“I do not dwell on it anymore. It is in the past. I look to the future.” Satya rested her head on the sofa cushion, brushing her long oil black hair to the side. “In the morning we will part ways. I will return to Vishkar and I will not report you or confiscate your stolen Vishkar equipment, although it is the punishment you deserve for your crimes. That is my repayment.”

“How generous of you,” he laughed, more sincerely than before. He turned his back a final time. “Sounds fine by me.”

Satya leaned over to blow out the candles. Her mechanical arm began to spasm, the light flashing from blue to purple. It jerked involuntarily, knocking the lit candles to the floor. The flames caught onto the threads of the rug. In a panic, Satya took the edge of her blanket with her organic hand and smothered the early flame, preventing the birth of a fire. Her arm returned from purple to blue before she had a moment to inspect it.

She closed her eyes and spent the remaining hours of the night attempting to remove the image of the mystery woman from her chaotic dreams. The woman finally disappeared, only to leave her with the face of the girl from the burning favela.


	4. In Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually like to create custom chapter cover images for my works, however I did not do it for the first three chapters because I wasn't sure how serious I would be with this fic. Now I'm ready to commit, so expect me to add covers to the previous three chapters soon.

                                                                           

Compared to the chaos that was the night, the morning was peaceful. A tranquil hush of waves swelled across the rocky shore below the cliff side, a precipice the bakery hugged comfortably close. Sea fowl called with the rising sun, awakening Satya with the light and sound of a new day in Dorado. Bells in the distance began to swing.

She awoke to find she was alone in the room. The cot beside her was empty – of a body, at least. The blanket left behind was unfolded and askew, as she supposed the thief would leave it. She clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, releasing the unease building in her chest. It could be corrected. She rose from the sofa and stretched, folded her own blanket, then folded the blanket on the cot.

The methodical movement of her arms as she folded had been rehearsed into a mindless dance after so many years of insisting she fold her things herself. She was the only one who could do it right. Edges flush, corners tapered. Her thoughts drifted. She wondered if the thief had already taken his leave. His gear was no longer strewn along the floor. It was for the best, Satya concluded. Her heart pumped as she remembered her spill of classified information in the waning hours of the night. For what reason had she been so careless, confiding in a thief like him? She had no need for justifying herself. It would not happen again.

Laughter erupted from downstairs. So, the thief had not yet left. Of course not, she was his technician after all, and for him to depart without her would raise questions.

Satya slipped on her boots and descended the steps into the bakery. Alejandra and the thief sat together at a table and her broken leg was propped up on another chair. The plates in front of them presented half-devoured pastries, though the plate in front of the remaining fourth empty chair was full to the brim.

“Buenos días, Satya.” Alejandra’s mother said, massaging a raw mound of dough behind the bakery counter, “I’ve made pan dulces for breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I included a little of everything. The plate on the table there is yours.”

Satya took her seat at the table and found some surprise to be greeted with two wide smiles. “Hey, mornin’,” the thief said as he leaned in, pointing to the plate. “You should try the conchas, they’re delicious.”

“Which ones would those be?”

Alejandra chimed in, mouth stuffed with dough. “The ones shaped like shells!”

The sweet bread in question were small and bulbous, scattered across the plate, and ribbed with fine white powdered sugar to accentuate the sea shell resemblance. They were nearly too perfect to eat. Her stomach protested her care for the symmetric. Satya winced as the bread so meticulously crafted crumbled under her touch. The sugar glaze gave some resistance under the bite of her front teeth, crackling and crunching, and the sweet casing gave way to a soft middle dough.  It was pleasant, and paired wonderfully with the hot coffee provided on the side.

“They are delicious,” Satya replied, noticing the thief patiently awaiting her verdict.

“Gloria, the breakfast was amazing, even Satya thinks so,” the thief turned to Alejandra’s mother. “I’ll have to come back for these again sometime.”

“Gracias,” Gloria beamed, wiping her hands off on her apron. “I must say, it’s still a little surreal that _the_ Lúcio is sitting in my bakery.”

It was still surreal to Satya too, for different reasons. What would Sanjay think if he saw her now, sharing sweet bread and fake smiles with the criminal designated for termination only hours ago?

“Hey, I came from a favela in Rio. I’m just a guy that likes music,” the thief said, standing up and lifting his plate from the table. “I’d love to stay and help you and Alejandra, but we should probably get going before any Los Muertos show up.”

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” Alejandra pouted.

Gloria shook her head. “I would love for them to stay too, mija, but I agree. With Los Muertos, this is for the best.”

Satya savored her last bite of the sweet bread, and the last minutes she had with company. It was rare she shared meals with anyone. Her routine was rigid, grabbing meals from Vishkar’s cafeteria and retreating to her quarters or the laboratory, careful not to contaminate the equipment while eating. On occasion she would join Sanjay or the more tolerable of her fellow colleagues – Nisha, Mayura, and Farida – as they would gather in the food court at the table by the window. She wasn’t often included in conversation unless they were desperate to know the latest breakthroughs in her hard light experiments. Otherwise, she would finish her meal, recline, and observe the pristine clockwork operations of Utopaea below as the others conversed. She was different; she should not expect anyone to understand her, and she would not burden anyone with the effort to do so. Still, to be included in conversation here in the bakery was a welcome novelty.

“You ready, Satya?” the thief asked, watching as she removed her plate from the table and deposited it on the counter.

“I am.”

“Stay safe,” Alejandra said. The thief kneeled to her level, giving her a hug.

“We will, you should too. Get better and rest up, okay?”

“I will,” she said. She blushed and bashfully asked, “Can you sign my cast before you go?”

He smiled and scrawled his name in green pen across the hard-light cast. After he was done, the girl shifted her melting gaze to Satya, as if expecting her to do the same. Satya kneeled as the thief had done and gingerly wrapped her limbs around her in a configuration she assumed a hug demanded. The contact was not emotionally artificial, but neither was it physically natural. Satya had not affectionately embraced another being in what must have been decades. If the hug was awkward, it did not faze Alejandra. “Thank you,” the girl whispered as Satya released her.

“Thank you.”

Satya and the thief waved as they passed through the doorway, paired together like old friends until the door had shut and they were both across the threshold and in the streets of Dorado. They stepped apart, their smiles faded.

“So,” the thief started, arms crossed against his chest. “You’re going back to Vishkar. Where are you headed off to then?”

“There is an envoy likely awaiting my arrival at the LumériCo power plant, our rendezvous point by the bank,” she replied coolly, squinting in the sun without the visor she had lost with her abandoned headset. For Vishkar’s security, it was best the thief did not know Vishkar was stationed there, in case he was compelled to steal again. “What is your destination?”

“Why? You gonna send Vishkar after me?” He said it with a smirk, which Satya mirrored.

“As I have already informed you, I will not report you for this occurrence.” It was a temporary truce birthed out of circumstance rather than any obligation she harbored for him.

The thief chuckled. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. I’ve got an agent that’s probably been looking for me all night. I’ll be giving him a call,” he said, his relaxed eyes shielded behind his green visor.

Satya remembered what the mystery woman had told her – eyes and ears were everywhere in the city, and the communication systems had been compromised after her tampering. If the thief were to call his agent it was certain Los Muertos and the mystery woman would find him in an instant. She considered sharing this information, yet, if she were to say nothing at all, the Los Muertos could relieve her of her mission and take the thief out of Vishkar’s dealings in Dorado entirely, whatever it was they wanted with him.

“Indeed. I suppose this is farewell.”

The thief shook his head. “Nah, I’ll walk with you to town hall. They’re after both of us right? It’ll be safer if we stick together until you get there.”

“You will accompany me?”

“Sure, don’t see why not. Los Muertos will probably have a harder time catching both of us, especially with your tech.”

She figured it might not hurt to have the aid of the thief’s speed in the case a chase occurred, as long as he was out of sight of the security systems installed on the LumériCo premises. She couldn’t risk Sanjay spotting him and asking questions. “We must rely on cover then. Our outfits are even more egregious in the daylight.”

“I hear you,” he agreed. “Let’s go through here.” The thief held out a hand to Satya’s shoulder, stopping just short of placing it against her sleeve. His hand hovered behind her back, a gentle gesture to direct her where he wanted to go.

They swiftly moved up the stairs and through the uphill street, careful to take cover under archways and behind terraces. The street was bustling – carts pushed and pulled over the cobbled street, advertising colorful crafted wares and fresh produce to deliver to the plaza marketplace. The people were preoccupied in their daily chorus of buenos días, cómo estás, buen, gracias, y tú, and paid no attention to the outsiders slinking behind bushes and low walls.

As furtively as they attempted to navigate the corridors of the city, their equipment did little to muffle their movement. Satya stepped softly on the ground minimizing the click of her heel. The thief faired far worse. His skates produced a whir against any solid surface, the metal tubing hanging off his hip clattered as he glided across the floor, and Satya could hear the bass of his music through his headphone. He couldn’t even stand still. His muscles bounced subtly to the rhythm of the music, his skates shifting back and forth and never silent as they waited for the crowd to pass. She thought successfully breaking into a high-security Vishkar facility would have taught him something about stealth.

They ducked into a covered area, with stairs that lead onto a bridge overlooking the plaza. Children played with a football in the marketplace below. Satya caught the thief smiling.

If there was any credit she could give the thief, it would be his acute lack of intimidation. Unlike the ruffians of Los Muertos, he had no spike or leather or rough edge to speak of. Only one tattoo, of a harmless frog no less, was emblazoned on his upper left arm. Without the volume of his dreadlocks, even Satya comfortably surpassed him in height. No, he was not intimidating at all, and she wondered just how he managed to become the powerful rebel that drove out such a massive influence as Vishkar.  

“I don’t get it Satya,” he started in a hushed voice. “How can you see all of this and think that there’s anything about it that needs fixing?”

“There is always room for improvement.”

“What is Vishkar doing to improve anything? You’ll give them buildings and use it as an excuse to punish them if they’re out past curfew or refuse to work. What you Vishkar will never understand is that people should be free.”

“What you call freedom is an illusion that causes more harm than good. You seem to have forgotten what we are hiding from. The existence of Los Muertos is a testament to the perils of freedom.”

“That’s different.” The thief sighed, gesturing her to follow him into an alleyway. “You can’t force people into your idea of a utopia.”

“The true enemy of humanity is disorder. Once we convince the world of this, there will be no more suffering. Everything will have a plan, a place, a function. Everything will be by design.”

“I don’t even know what to say to you,” the thief spat. The edge of his lip rose and curled in disgust. “Humans aren’t designed to live like that.”

“I am. Am I not human to you?”

The thief didn’t respond, though she could detect the hiccup in his step, the hesitation in his breath. Perhaps he had only shifted his attention to the museum, which now stood as the final obstacle to town hall, but she was satisfied with his pause. He might have accused her of not seeing the truth of the world, of Vishkar, but he was no different. He was blinded by his own naivety.

She followed his lead pressed up against the walls of the museum. It was fortunately empty at this time of day, and another open doorway led them out as easily as they came in. Grass cushioned her feet as she stepped out. They had arrived in the courtyard of town hall. The shade of trees kept them well under cover for the time being.

“We are here,” Satya said, glancing at the vulgar graffiti that marred the statue of Guillermo Portero. This was as far as she could allow the thief to go. “It is time we part ways.”

“Wait, Satya.” She turned to see the thief was about to grab her arm, but once again stopped himself before he could. “You’re human. I didn’t mean to say you aren’t. It’s just… not everyone is like you.”

“You are not the first to tell me this,” Satya replied. “I do not expect anyone to understand who I am. I only wish for others to see the world as I do.”

“I think that’s something everyone wants,” he said. “So I understand that much.”

Satya returned only a hard stare while contemplating his words. As was his specialty, the thief changed the subject amidst the awkward silence. “My agent isn’t gonna be too happy when I give him a call. He didn’t exactly approve of my idea to hold a concert here, so I’ll probably hear a lot of ‘I told you so.’”

“If it is any consolation, I can relate,” Satya said as she wrung her organic hand with her metal one. “My superiors will not approve that I had cut off communication for such an extended time, and… and that I…”

“And that you helped me,” the thief finished her sentence. He had a gift for acknowledging the predicament he had put her in.

“I did not help _you_ , rather, I helped Alejandra and you insisted in becoming involved. But yes. You understand.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?” He rested his hands on his hips and kicked at the grass. “You know, I kind of hoped you wouldn’t go back to Vishkar.”

Satya scrunched her nose. He was yet another criminal proposing she defect from Vishkar, her only home. She supposed she was grateful he wasn’t threatening her with the idea. “That is a preposterous thing to hope for.”

“Yeah. Yeah I guess it is.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I ask you one question before you go?”

She had amused the thief thus far. She saw no harm in entertaining him a final time. “Very well.”

“Why were you at my concert? I mean, I assume it’s ‘cause Vishkar sent someone out to scout for me. I just wanted to know. It couldn’t possibly be because you like my music.”

The thief was not wholly wrong in his assumption, yet there was more to her mission than what the thief could ever assume. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? “It is as you suspected. I was scouting.”

“I see,” he said, lowering his eyes. “Well, Satya, thanks for sticking around. Maybe you can make some positive changes when you go back.”

“I always strive for the advancement of Vishkar,” she boasted. She had just noticed his hand was outstretched, awaiting hers to join it. She did not revel in handshakes, and on business deals she obliged simply to get it over with. At least she had practice.

She took his hand, pivoted her wrist once or twice, and retreated before he could comprehend it. “I do not agree with you, thief. I do, however, appreciate that you have accompanied me.”

He only responded with a firm nod and a slight smile, but it was enough. He understood. Satya turned on her heel to cross the courtyard and enter the bank. She fought the strange urge to look behind her as she left.

* * *

 

The LumériCo power plant, despite no Vishkar involvement in its development, was an architectural marvel. It stood as a steel and glass ziggurat, towering above the painted brick and mortar buildings of Dorado, and showered the city in reflected green-tinted sunlight. It was almost a shame the power plant would have to be carefully deconstructed once Vishkar claimed its hold. Satya took note of the structure’s intricacies as she exited the bank and stepped onto the loading dock, hoping to take inspiration from the building while designing the new Vishkar facilities for Dorado.  

She would have to draft the designs remotely. After the fiasco with the thief and the mystery woman, Sanjay certainly wouldn’t keep his top asset at risk in Dorado. She only hoped her new deployment would be for a research project at the shimmering university in Oasis, and not for the radiated wasteland that was Australia’s outback.

The gate to the LumériCo power plant was sealed tight. Satya pressed the button to the intercom.

“This is Satya Vaswani requesting access.”

Static was her only answer. She was exposed in front of the building that provided her no cover – churchgoers glared at her from nearby, whispering in curt voices and shielding their children from her view. The bells tolled again.

“Satya Vaswani?” A man’s voice finally erupted from the intercom. “Sorry, it doesn’t look like you have permission for access.”

Satya closed her eyes and breathed deep, quelling her frustration. The security of the power plant was still under LumériCo control, and while Vishkar was allowed to use the building as a privilege for being the highest bidder, the tension between employees was palpable. It wasn’t uncommon for security to refuse access to Vishkar members for the pure thrill of it, and it slowed Vishkar’s progress.

“You know who I am,” Satya spat. “Sanjay Korpal is expecting me.”

“ _I_ know who you are. The computer doesn’t,” the man said. “Our computers were breached earlier this morning; we’ve been trying to recover our database.”

“Of course.” Satya breathed in again. For the sheer power that LumériCo possessed, their technological security was second rate. It was no wonder they were the constant target for outside hackers. “Call Sanjay and speak with him. He will grant me a manual override.”

“Hold on a minute, something’s wrong…” the man said, though his trailing voice was distant, no longer pressed into the intercom. Only static followed.

Impatient, Satya tapped her foot to the metal loading dock. After a few taps she began to synchronize her foot with the chiming of the bells. Then she counted, as if it were a dance.

One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three…

And on the final four, the top of the glass ziggurat shattered, engulfed in a cloud of fire.


End file.
